


Be Kind to Your Shadow

by zarabithia



Category: Batman (Comics), Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Jason gets into a bar fight in Cleveland.





	Be Kind to Your Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Canon notes: It's a little iffy, but let's go with early season eight of Buffy, and pre-Battle For the Cowl Jason. Written way before most of the season eight Buffy comics were, so a lot of things have been Jossed. 
> 
> Title comes from: "Be kind to your shadow." ~Rebecca Lawless

Okay, admittedly, shiny pieces of glittering glass tended to make Faith remember what was really _not_ one of her better moments. Namely, when she'd decided to tie Wesley up for a little game of "hot, cold, _cut_ ," and Faith couldn't exactly deny the fact that seeing the blood-stained glass being pulled out of some bastard's chest brought back both the smell of Wesley's blood and ... another memory. Namely, the memory of the event that had brought Faith to the bad side of the fence in the first place.  
  
So, maybe, just maybe she over-reacted. _A little_.  
  
The guy with the glass was thrown to the floor with almost no regard to the differences in strength. Faith won't feel badly about that later; he had on armor.  
  
Faith may not have been the smartest cookie in the box, but she did spare a passing thought to what kind of freak wore armor to a _bar_. Probably the same kind of freak who wore a freaking _eye mask_ to a bar. If the bar had any sense, they wouldn't have let him in to begin with.  
  
The guy hit back, and Faith was almost dismayed to discover that he didn't have any enhanced powers. It'd been a shitty week (not that there were ever any _good_ weeks in _Cleveland_ ) and she could have used a good fight.  
  
Hell, the fight was so lame that not even any of the other patrons in the bar wanted to join them. Only in Cleveland and Sunnydale were people so lame as to not join a fight _in a bar_. She wondered, off-handedly, how many of them were demons.  
  
"What the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded.  
  
"Says the girl who jumped me," her opponent retorted, and Faith had to dodge a punch. He fought well - much better than the average psychopath. But he fought with a wildness that Faith hadn't seen since she'd gotten out of prison.  
  
"I jumped you because you just sliced that guy in half with a broken beer bottle," Faith snapped, throwing her own punch.  
  
He dodged, too, and managed to get in a good knee to her kidneys. This caused Faith to see white long enough for him to push her off of him.  
  
Dammit, the bastard was good.  
  
Faith rolled over and on to her feet. She did notice that her opponent waited, and didn't take the opportunity to stab her, or otherwise take advantage of the kick.  
  
Well, what the hell? Maybe he just didn't like an easy target. All psychopaths had their own issues. No one knew that better than Faith.  
  
"I sliced him in half," the man told her once she was standing, "Because he damn well deserved it."  
  
"Oh, really? What did he do? Make a pass at your girl?"  
  
The man snorted. "Hardly."  
  
"Skip making a pass and went straight to _fucking_ your girl?" It would be easier to hit the man if he would _hold still_.  
  
She bet Buffy could have hit him, though and that thought just made her more irritated.  
  
"Trust me, _Xena_ ," the man replied. "It had nothing at all to do with my 'girl.''"  
  
"Your _boy_ , then?"  
  
"I'm not sure who is more of an asshole. You, for thinking I go around slicing people into because they interfere with my non-existent sex life, or my family...for, well, being my family."  
  
Faith dodged a kick and picked up a chair. She thought about using it as a weapon, but something made her pause. Maybe it was the comment about fucked-up families. She knew a thing or two about that - but she bet her fucked-up family would beat his all hollow. "So why did you slice him in half?" she demanded.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
  
"You'd be surprised what I have reason to believe," Faith answered. "Try me."  
  
"Maybe you can. You do hit pretty damn hard," the man muttered.  
  
"One of my better qualities," Faith answered.  
  
He gave her a bloody smirk, his lip still bruised from one of her best efforts. "You want the story? Fine. Asshole here -"  
  
"Are we talking about him or you? It's an important distinction."  
  
"Yeah, fuck you, too."  
  
"Sorry, you aren't my type." Which wasn't exactly true, but it needed to be said. "You were saying?"  
  
"I was _saying_ that the guy you're so worried about is going around gathering up teenagers and kids to sell to _vampires_ ," the guy told her. From the way he crossed his arms and glared at her, he obviously expected her not to believe him.  
  
"That was _that guy_? I've been looking for him for a week! That's nothing like what his picture was supposed to look like," Faith cursed. Faith turned back to get a good look at the unfortunate sliced up guy for a second glance...and saw the answer to her confusion. "Poor sliced up guy" turned out to be a purple mass of bubbling goo.  
  
Which of course, only she and her companion seemed to notice.  
  
People in Ohio were possibly even more stupid than the people in Sunnydale.  
  
"Well, didn't expect that," the man she'd been fighting noted.  
  
"A tarmog," she explained in disgust. So it had never been about profit after all. The damn demon had just made it look that way to throw her off the trail. Irritated, she sat the chair down and gave it a good kick.  
  
"Sounds Klingon."  
  
"Shape-shifting demon," Faith corrected. "Which means you get a pass for killing him."  
  
"Oh, aren't I a lucky one," he said in a mocking tone. "People in your world actually make distinctions between things that are okay to kill and things that aren't?"  
  
"My world?"  
  
"Er... Ohio. Definitely a weird world," he answered. "You don't seem very surprised by the tarmog."  
  
"Faith Lehane, Vampire Slayer," she introduced sarcastically, reaching out her hand. "By the way, the vamps he was selling to, I need you to take me to them."  
  
"Jason Todd," he answered. "And I took care of it." He shook her hand in a way that told Faith he wasn't used to people extending their hand for him to shake.  
  
Or maybe Angel, the asshole who never picked up his goddamn phone these days, had just given her a guilt complex big enough to project her issues onto every other person she ran into.  
  
"Took care of it, how? Glass isn't enough to deal with vamps. You gotta -"  
  
"Cut their heads off, I know. Did it."  
  
"Okay, yeah, that works, but honestly, a good stake to the chest will do the job, too."  
  
"Loses points for flair, though," Jason pointed out. "But I'll keep that in mind for next time."  
  
"If there's going to be a next time," Faith said, internally cursing Angel because this really _was_ his fault. And Wesley's for being such a shitty watcher. And possibly Giles' fault, too. "You should come with me and at least learn the basic ropes."  
  
"Whether I love you or hate you will depend entirely on if your next words are anything to do with 'the mission,'" Jason told her.  
  
"Mission? No. But I do have to patrol. You can come too, if you want. Just take that damn mask off. You look either like a drugged up thief or something out of a comic book." She turned and began walking out of the bar.  
  
"Patrol, huh? I can do that." Jason shrugged and followed Faith out the door. He kept the damn mask on. "I don't know about you, but the kind of patrols I'm used to include lots of post-battle sex."  
  
Faith snorted. "Like you said, Ohio's a whole different world."  
  
It wasn't like her to decline an offer from a good looking guy. But she wasn't sure yet whether she really liked this guy, or whether she wanted to find another chair to beat him with.  
  
But, then, the night was still young.  
  



End file.
